Season 3 The War
by Welshbabe88
Summary: Basically my take on what I'd like Season 3 to be. Sam and Dean start the hunt for the escaped demons. A new force is taking over. Jo joins the battle and a new hunter comes to America to seek revenge on a demon the brothers have dealt with. DeanJo SamOC
1. Chapter 1 Intro

_(A/N: Hi everyone. This is my first fanfiction and I'm a little nervous about posting my stuff. Any people who are reading this story share my passion for this amazing TV show. Anyways, let's get on with the show. Just to let you know, Jo is a main part of this story because I actually like Alona Tal's character.)_

"We've got work to do," He muttered as he tossed his well abused shotgun into the trunk of the impala and closing the truck. Dean turned around and casually leaned back on his precious car. He glanced over to Sam, who was smirking at him, "What?"

"Bitch"

"Jerk," Dean replied, now smiling at his little brother. Suddenly, Dean punched him in the shoulder and Sam cringed at the new pain coursing his well battered body.

"Hey, what the hell, Dean, that hurt" Sam said rubbing the tender area.

"That," Dean laughed, "is because you have to stop getting yourself killed. Really, I'm not going to drag your ass from the dead a second time. I can't keep on making out with these demons."

He turned around and looked over the graveyard, leaning against the truck of the car. It had been a long journey to get to this point, the demon was finally dead. But he knew that this fight was far from over, the amount of spirits and demons that poured out from that gateway overwhelmed Dean; yet, he kept thinking back to when they saw his father distract the demon. _He was really there,_ Dean thought, _but what has he become. Do I have to hunt him down?_ He turned back to see Sam talking to Ellen and Bobby.

"We're gonna have to find a safe place, somewhere to lay low before we start hunting these damn things. I doubt my place survived, Ellen's roadhouse got burned down, so now what?" Bobby stated, fidgeting with his hat.

"Honestly Bobby, I don't know, we- "

"We should go back to the Roadhouse," Ellen blurted out, "I got to know who died; I can't just leave it behind." She looked away, not able to meet anyone's eyes. Sam put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his tall frame.

"I'm so sorry Ellen, but who knows what been gathering there after you guys left. It's too dangerous."

"No, I can't stay away. I don't give a damn about what's there; I'll kill it. What if some of the boys went back, what if Jo is back there and she doesn't know if I'm alive. I have to go back."

Dean had been listening to the last few lines, saying nothing. Sam looked at him, trying to get his brother to help him out. Ellen looked on the verge of tears and Bobby started pacing awkwardly.

"I agree with Ellen, we got to start hunting somewhere, might as well start salvaging some stuff."

Sam was surprised by his brother's answer, but didn't argue. He sighed, "Alright then, the roadhouse it is. Bobby, you'll drive Ellen and you two can follow Dean in the Impala." Sam moved around the car to the passenger seat and slung it forward in order to step inside, Bobby helped Ellen into his truck, taking the front passenger seat while Dean revved up the Impala.

Dean took one more look at the graveyard, the only things left from the fight were some scorch marks and the body of Jake and the Yellow Eyed Demon. He turned away, got in the car and revved the engine, speeding away with the dust trailing behind them.

2 Days Ago 

Jo Harvelle was alone in the dank bar, closing up for the night. This was the 5th bar she had worked in the last 2 weeks. The nights had been long but uneventful, at best, she would get to kick out a couple of drunken brawlers; yet, Jo's patience wore thin with the comments she got from the men. Tonight was no different, however, she had been more conscious of her surroundings, ever since Sam walked in and attempted to torture her. She definitely had a wakeup call about hunting. She never really understood the sacrifices those drifters made while she served them at the roadhouse The other difference Jo was noticing these days was that there were no supernatural occurrences anywhere. Something big was going to happen, but had no clue how to defend against it. She wiped off the tables as her manager stepped into the parlour area.

"Good haul tonight," he said, nodding towards Jo, "you seem to bring in

some good business."

Jo smirked, "Yeah, well as long as they keep using their hands to hold beer

instead of touching me, I'm glad." At that her boss laughed.

"You do tend to be blunt, lil' missy"

"It's my nature, simply, my way or the highway," he smiled, "Cliché,

I know."

"Well, I'll be off, but before I go, here's your tip, you deserve it." He slapped a couple of bills on the main bar and walked out. Jo turned to the jukebox and selected a song to pass the time.Jo just finished wiping down the bar when she noticed the buzzing of her cell phone, lying on the opposite side of the counter.

"Hello?" No noise was heard from the receiver. Jo tried again, "Hello, who is this?"

Suddenly, a loud crackling noise emitted from the phone, causing Jo to flinch. She quickly moved her ear back to the receiver to listen.

"Who is this?" she asked again

"Baby…it's m-….need he-….demon ….roadhouse in quickly.." The line went dead. It took Jo a few moments to register what she had just heard. She quickly swiped the cash off the table, picked up her bag and ran for the door leading to the back parking lot and her used car. She got into her used Ford pick-up and started the engine, tossing her stuff in the passenger seat. She paused, her emotions churning, and turned to look back, quickly reversing.

"I'll save you, Mom."

_2 weeks ago_

The fireworks exploded across the sky, illuminating the by-standers around me. They were all so entertained by such a trivial thing; a spark of fire – a mixture of chemicals – just cheap thrills. And yet, thinking back to my last hunt, fire may easily become the spark to great chaos. Max strode back over to me with some rapidly melting ice cream and a genuine smile on his face.

"I am the almighty bringer of food; bow to my will," he smirked as I masked my thoughts with a withering glare. He immediately offered the chocolate cone, all the while slurping up the melting remains of his vanilla one. Max, my mentor and good friend, was always a great mystery to me. He was a bulky, but very able man who looked to be reaching his 60s, with greying hair, a kind face, and a broad nose and mouth, making him look permanently content. On top of that, he always wore a tweed suit in various colours, causing him stand out like a sore thumb; basically the equivalent of waving his hands shouting 'Hey, look at me, I'm British!'

However, just when I thought I had him figured out, he showed a new facet of his ever changing personality to me, and I would be stumped again.

He eyed me closely, finishing his cone. "Don't be so tense Alex. Enjoy the fireworks and _be happy_, it's all over. You saved the day and survived in the process," he stated between mouthfuls.

I looked over to see him admiring the fireworks. For once, I agreed and relaxed in the enjoyment of exploding starbursts of colours and noises. I stood there, finally calm. Turning to Max, I found him staring at me with a surprised face, his mouth agape.

"What's wrong Max, are you so surprised that I'm actually relaxing?" I smirked.

My smirk immediately faded as he crumpled onto the field. I rushed over to his twitching form. Ripping open his trench, I found the source of his collapse. A hand print was burning into his shirt, hissing as it grew stronger in colour and shape – something was sucking the life out of him. A flailed my arms around his body, trying to get rid of the essence around him. I turned to scream for help but a hand on my shoulder silenced me.

"Don't, it's useless Ally, I'm gone," he rasped, he loved to call me Ally. He was quickly gasping for air. "I'm so sorry."

Max spluttered and desperately grabbed onto my forearms, as if some force might wrench me from him.

"No, no, no, NO. Max, you are not allowed to die. I need you. I can't do this alone. No, NO," I repeated it like a mantra, tears streaming down my face, hoping to change the situation.

He died there in my arms, along with my ability to feel. Numb and alone, I realized it was far from over. If they wanted a war, they got one. I will seek revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

_(A/N: Hey there again, thanks for all the reviews, I really appreciate it. Hope your liking this so far. Sorry I couldn't fit in any Jo/Dean this chapter, but they will definitely meet next chapter. Also, I think my OC will travel to America soon. If anyone has a suggestion of a cool car for her to drive, please tell me. I'm trying to leave out the swearing as much as possible, but then again, this show is not all that well-mannered…..Dean, polite……snickers Anyway, I'd love to here more reviews, it makes me happy….and a happy welshbabe is a writing welshbabe…wink wink)_

* * *

_Margam Abbey, South Wales, U.K._

I looked on as the Pastor gave his sermon to the small crowd of people huddled around the grave of my once mentor and friend. Tears poured down my face, mixing with the dreary raindrops, a fitting sombre atmosphere. It had been under two weeks since Max's sudden death. The coroner concluded that he was stricken by a heart attack. But I knew it was her.

It's been just over a year since Max gave his soul to save mine. I truly thought we had escaped, that he would be around forever, hunting with me. But it seems I was wrong. The deal maker gave him one year for the return of my life. That was my stupid mistake; I knew it was my fault – I had died and he cared too much to let me go. Now I couldn't save him; it felt like my heart was breaking as the pall bearers slowly dropped the casket into the grave.

People began to disperse, but I lingered on. The gravediggers engulfed the coffin in earth, stealing my last chance of hope to bring him back. I dropped a necklace that he had given me into the cavernous hole, a delicate silver crucifix, taking one last look before turning back towards the dirt path that was now a sea of sludge from the downpour. I trudged over the muddy grass to my car, opening the door, when I heard a voice call out. Turning to the sound I saw a tall, slim man walking briskly towards me. On closer inspection he had a drawn face that included a pair of narrow inset eyes, and stern lips.

"Ah, Ms. Curtis, I'm glad I could catch you here. I have a few legal matters to discuss with you because of Mr. Charles' untimely death." He relayed once he arrived within speaking distance; he had a nasal voice to match his pinched features.

"And you are?" I asked, unsure if Max had been in trouble with the law.

"Of course, I'm sorry, my name is Alistair Stewart and I handle Mr. Charles' Estate."

"He had a will? You must be mistaken, I didn't know he even had any possessions." I replied surprised, as Max had never spoken of his family and had only a few relatives still alive. We always lived out of the car or the nearest Inn.

"I assure you, that Mr. Charles did have property and assets," he retorted, "In the event of his death, he insisted that I contact you with his effects. I think we should continue this conversation in my office. Would you mind following my car?" he asked with determination, I complied.

I parked in front of a classic English cottage with a rickety sign advertising the legal offices within. Stepping out of my car, I walked towards Alistair, who was waiting beside the large wooden door.

"This way please," he ushered me in, directing me past the reception to the farthest office, which was scattered with loose papers and legal texts it seemed from numerous years. He sat me down in the only chair available and placed himself behind a cluttered desk. Leaning forward, he steepled his fingers, delicately resting his chin on top. "As you might already know, Ms. Curtis, Maxwell had very few living relatives. I have already contacted and imparted their items; you are the last of his beneficiaries."

I sat silently listening to his well rehearsed speech about his condolences. I was still amazed by the fact that Max had money, but he was the kind of man to save something for a rainy day; even though he lived the life of a vagrant. I snapped out of my musings, noticing that Alistair had asked me something.

"Sorry sir, I missed your question." I blurted out, embarrassed that I got caught daydreaming.

"Of course, Miss," he replied disdainfully, a little offended by my lack of concentration, "I was asking if you were ready to review the will?" I nodded.

He stood and began to rummage through a couple of paper piles until he managed to remove a briefcase from underneath one of the more precarious ones. It definitely looked like it had seen better days. Yet, my attention was soon drawn to the folder he removed and laid open on his desk.

"Along with the materials effects that I have kept for Mr. Charles, he has left a house on the Gower coast, an apartment in New York, his car, and the sum of 11.3 million dollars in various bank accounts." He finished and resumed his earlier position, his eyes scanning my reaction to this statement.

I was dumbfounded; I sat there motionless, my mouth agape, trying to process this incredulous information. Finally, I muttered, "That's impossible."

"Actually, it is entirely accurate. Shall I present you with the keys and effects?" I nodded numbly, at which point, he handed me a hefty package.

* * *

_Route 66, U.S.A_

The moon cast an eerie light onto the highway that stretched out for miles. The only sounds, coming from the two roaring engines of the impala and Bobby's truck as they sped across the barren dry land towards their destination. Dean was changing the tapes for the third time; the best of Metallica began to stream through the speakers when Sam turned to him.

"Alright Dean, are we going to talk at all or will it be silence for the rest of the drive. I'm kind of getting tired of the cold shoulder." Sam muttered as he shifted into a more comfortable reclining position, which was difficult with his tall frame. Dean shifted his eyes to Sam's awaiting gaze before shrugging and focussing on the road again.

"What's there to say Sammy, Demon's dead, and we're hunting, as usual. You know I'm not into that heart to heart crap," he shifted awkwardly.

"Oh come on, stop avoiding things," Sam was getting agitated, _my brother will never learn_, he cursed. "The Demon may be dead, but what about everything else. You sold your soul and only have a year left, there are hundreds of demons let loose, dad's out of hell, and we have no idea where to get help; do we even know how many hunters are left!"

Dean cringed as Sam's voice escalated to the point of rage, "Cool it," he shouted back. "Can't you at least relax for a little bit, enjoy the scenery. You did die in case you'd forgotten already. Might wanna, you know, wake up and smell…flowers or something…you know what I mean." Dean gave his little brother his trademark smirk. "Hey, we might even get a little more time with the ladies, you sure need to loosen up a little more." Sam tried to reply but was cut off by Dean cranking the radio up. Sam just looked on in annoyance as Dean started to sing 'Enter Sandman', "You can't duck out of this one, Dean – we will talk."

"Sorry Sammy boy, CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Dean shouted over the lyrics, laughing and mouthing the words. However, Dean knew Sam was right and he was beginning to fear that his actions were finally catching up with him.

* * *

_The Roadhouse_

Jo had been driving for the last day, unable to stop for anything except gas. She was worried about the phone call she received just yesterday. Her mother sounded afraid; she hoped that what she found would be salvageable. For the first time in a while, she prayed, hoping her mother was safe, that someone had helped her. At first she thought to call Dean for backup, but she soon rejected that idea._We definitely didn't end on good terms last time_, she thought bitterly. Turning up the radio, she found that it was currently playing one of her favourite songs, 'Can't Fight This Feeling', and smirked. "Damn right REO." She muttered.

About 20 minutes from the Roadhouse she shut off her headlights and started slowing down. She knew if her mother called, it would be dangerous; they were currently on shaky terms and Ellen never called for no reason. Easing the car to a halt at the end of the lane, Jo quietly opened the door. Turning to the passenger seat, she reached over, removing a sawed-off shotgun and a long hunting knife. Checking the rock-salt rounds, she slung the gun over her shoulder and sheathed the knife through her belt. The sun was setting as dusk was fast approaching; she scouted the area for anything out of place. Rounding the bend, she came face to face with the smouldering remains of the roadhouse. The fire had long since gone out, leaving a pile of ash and wood. Jo frantically ran full speed towards the rubble.

"MOM….where are you…MOM," Jo screamed, pulling apart the charred blocks of wood and scrounging for any sign of movement. Suddenly, she noticed something glinting in the last rays of sunshine. Coming closer, she saw it was a watch, attached to a scorched arm. Jo stood up, lips trembling. "Ash?" she whispered, backing up. She glanced around, realizing that she had dropped her shotgun long before. Searching in the debris, she didn't notice the shadows approaching.

"Looking for this babe?" said a sneering voice from behind. Jo snapped around to find five people sauntering towards her in a semi-circle. The leader, a lean, dark-haired pale woman, stepped ahead of the rest, holding the gun.

Jo backed away slowly, looking for an escape. "What's it to you? Who are you?"

"Friends," the woman replied. She quickly aimed and shot Jo square in the leg, causing her to collapse onto the charred remains of the building. Jo moaned and attempted to sit up.

"Bastards!" Jo seethed, scrambling away with her arms dragging her body weight. The leader ran up to her, pinning her down with one knee.

"Tut-tut girlie, now play nice." She said, smacking the butt of the shotgun across Jo's face. Two of the men picked up the unconscious girl and tossed her into the back of the pick up.


	3. Chapter 3

As Dean rolled the Impala up to the remains of the Roadhouse, he immediately felt that something was different. Bobby pulled up in the truck just as Dean opened his trunk to remove some weapons, tossing a select few to his little brother. Bobby looked furtively around the forested area, making sure nothing seemed suspicious. As he moved towards the boys, he picked up the end of the conversation between the brothers.

"I don't know Sam, but something just ain't right," Dean looked tense, trying to explain.

"I can't see that much would have changed since then, Dean."

"Hey, I may not be psychic, but I'm a damn good hunter. Something was here recently; something bad." He retorted, stuffing a .45 down the back of his jeans.

"Fine, let's check it out." Sam sighed, turning towards the dirt path, but a hand stopped him. He looked to see Bobby beside him, holding him back.

"Sam, how about you stay with Ellen and keep her occupied while Dean and I check out the place. Don't want to upset her any more than necessary. You know you're the best with these situations." He pleaded.

Sam sighed, looking into the passenger seat of the truck. Ellen sat there listlessly; it seemed the trip back to the Roadhouse hit her hard. The only home she truly had was gone. "Alright, she looks a little worse for wear." Sam conceded, tossing the gun to Bobby.

"We'll be back soon," Dean shouted back, already walking toward the site, Bobby trailing a few feet behind. Sam nodded, going back to Ellen in the car.

As Dean approached the Roadhouse, he checked the area for any suspicious activity. He grimaced as he once again passed the burned remains of Ash, their mullet-rocking computer genius. Lying about four feet away, was a hunting knife stuck underneath the debris; yet it wasn't charred like the rest of the items. "Hey Bobby," Dean called, picking up the knife, "You seen this knife before, looks like someone dropped it here recently."

Bobby sidled over to Dean, taking the knife and inspecting the blade and hilt. "Huh, looks familiar, but I can't put my finger on it." Bobby looked up and nodded his head in the direction they came. "It's strange but, there's a fresh set of tire tracks coming from the highway, but going into the forest."

Dean looked over Bobby to see the tracks cutting through the field, away from the main road. As he scanned the surroundings, he noticed a darkened area closer to the debris. Briskly walking over to the earth, he dragged two finger across the stain and smelled the dirt. "Someone's been injured here recently. It's blood." He brushed the dirt off his hands as he rose from a squatting position. "Don't know what to make of it."

"Well," Bobby gestured towards the car, "maybe we should salvage some stuff for Ellen, help her out a bit. We should bury some of the bodies we find too. It's only respectful." He lifted his hat, scratching his balding head, waiting for Dean's response. Dean nodded and they walked back to the cars.

Sam got in the drivers seat beside Ellen. She didn't even acknowledged him as he sat back and turned on the radio. He didn't want to push her too much, because he uinderstood how she felt. He just leaned back, comfortable with the silence and the soft music coming from the station.

"That bar had so many good memories." Sam was startled by Ellen's sudden statement. Looking over towards her, she seemed to look straight through him, her mind elsewhere. "It was a nice place; so many people came and went. That was where Jo grew up; where I lived with my husband, I can't believe it's all gone. Every keepsake I had of my family and friends was in there." She turned her head once more to look out the window.

Sam empathized, knowing why she looked so defeated. "I know how it feels, Ellen, but you have to be strong. Don't let them think they won. Not everything was destroyed because you still have your memories. They can't take that away from you." Sam laid a comforting hand on Ellen's shoulder. "It will get better, don't you worry." He smiled reassuringly, "maybe we can kick some demon ass along the way. I bet you want first pick." At that, Ellen glanced back to give Sam a ghost of a smile.

"The boys are coming back," she said as Sam spotted Dean and Bobby heading back to the car.

Dean walked up to the passenger window as Ellen was rolling it down. "Hey Ellen, you doing alright?" he asked gruffly.

"Not bad. So, what did ya find?"

Bobby came from behind Dean, leaning on the other side of the window. "Looks like someone's been here recently. Whoever it was got into a fight with who knows what and I think it stole their car. By the tire tracks, looks like it was a pick up." He placed the knife on the window sill, "either of you recognize this?"

Ellen paled, "Where did you get that?" she asked franticly, snatching the knife from Bobby's fingers.

"You know it?" Dean said, surprised.

"This was my husbands, but I gave it to Jo just before she left." Ellen paused, "Oh no, it can't be, why did she come back? Where's my girl?" Beginning to turn hysterical, Sam grabbed her from behind to stop Ellen hurting herself.

"Ellen, stop. If Jo was here, and we don't know that for sure, then we will be able to track her down and get her out." Sam released her as she calmed down. He slowly took the hunting knife from her and examined it.

Suddenly, Sam dropped the knife, bracing his hands over his face, as a searing pain wrenched across his head and down his spine. Arching backwards, he moaned as another flash of pain tore through his body. Dean raced over to the drivers side, ripping open the door. "SAMMY! I'm right her buddy. Come on Sammy, snap out of it!" Dean held his brother as Sam doubled over.

"What's wrong, what's going on?" Ellen cried confused.

Yet, Sam couldn't hear anything as images rushed into his brain. _It was dusk, there was a run down barn set in the distance…small flickers of amber light emerging from the rotting cracks apparent in the collapsing structure…table next to the door, lined with weapons, liquor, and bloody tools…moaning in the back ground…tools removed from table…rotting flesh and blood stains… a man strapped to a table far away, face indistinguishable, struggling with the bonds, screaming silently towards the shadow…blond hair matted and bloodstained…knife unsheathed…screams of pain…_Suddenly Sam was ripped from the vision, the blinding pain receding. "Get in the car. Now." He finally rasped.

* * *

Light swam before her eyes as Jo slowly awoke to a dull ache, spreading from her skull and down across her shoulders and ribs. As her sight adjusted to the lamps burning, she looked down to find that her feet were no where near the ground. Confused and a little groggy, she glanced up to find her arms lashed together with rope, tied to one of the numerous rotting support beams holding up the dilapidated roof. Fear was starting to penetrate her calm demeanour as she struggled frantically with the bindings. However, the rope only wound tighter because of her weight. 

"I'd stop doing that if I were you; you'll damage those pretty hands," a strong feminine voice drawled from the shadows, " I wouldn't want you to break something."

Sure enough, a soft popping sound soon caused Jo to cry out in pain, "Son of a bitch, why are you doing this? Who are you?" she asked, desperately trying to free her dislocated shoulder from further pain.

"I'm a mutual friend," the woman smirked as she stepped out of the shadows.

Signalling to someone out of sight, Jo found herself slowly descending until her feet gingerly touched the ground. She breathed a sigh of relief as the pain eased from her shoulder. Turning towards the woman now sauntering towards her, Jo braced herself for an attack.

"You didn't answer my question." Jo spat.

"I'm Kate, your two hunter friends killed my mate. I'm here for pay back." Kate smiled, revealing fangs, glinting in the dim lighting. Jo paled, finally realizing what she was surrounded by; she spun herself around to see the other vampires closing in. Ignoring the pain, she wrenched herself upwards and swung her legs, landing a double kick on the nearest enemy, who flew onto the floor. Regaining her stance, she used the rope as momentum to swing herself around, attacking anything near to her with multiple high kicks and jabs. She knew she was fighting a losing battle. Tackled from behind,. the renewed pain blossoming in her shoulder drowned out the shouts coming from the group. She realized that she was no longer suspended but tied to a plain wooden rocking chair.

Kate wiped the blood from her mouth, caught by one of Jo's frenzied attacks. "Relax, darling." She sneered, licking the blood from her hand, "we don't need to kill you yet. That would be such a waste."

The rest of the nest fell back from their prisoner, one turned on the radio and poured a liberal amount whisky into the numerous shot glasses littering the table. Kate walked over to the group, picking up one of the shot glasses and downing it. A stockier vamp strolled to the far end of the barn, nearing another set of tables; Jo noticed a body secured to the farthest one. She strained to get a better look but the view was blocked by Kate, who began to walk back to Jo, now holding a buck hunting knife.

"Thought you said you weren't going to kill me." Jo said, stubbornly jutting her chin in defiance. Kate clamped her hand around Jo's jaw, squeezing until she extracted a painful cry.

"True. But that doesn't mean I won't taste you." Kate quickly sliced open a shallow cut along Jo's cheekbone, receiving a quiet hiss in return. Kate straddled Jo in her chair and bent down to lick her oozing cut; leaning her head back, Kate moaned as the fresh blood flowed down her throat. Jo shuddered, unsure that she could get out of this alive. Sensing her fear, Kate laughed and looked into Jo's eyes, "When I'm done sweetheart, you'll never get out." She turned to the group, lifting off Jo's lap, "I wonder, we could make you one of us. Wouldn't that be fun, watching the Winchesters hunt down one of their only friends." The group laughed, glancing towards Jo, showing the silver flash of their irises.

Jo was becoming increasingly afraid, but noticed that Kate now slinked towards the body still half in shadow. "I think this one is of some importance to you," she stated, not bothering to turn and address Jo. "Maybe we should have a show and tell," her eyes gleamed silver as she pushed the table into the light. Jo gasped, struggling with her bonds to get to the prone figure. He was in bad condition. Shallow but extensive scratches were all over his body, and he was pale from the blood loss. Yet, there was no mistaking that beat up face; it was Ash.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hello again everybody. Sorry for the long pause between chapters, but I've been swamped with reno in my house, and Harry Potter, a must read. Anyway, on with the show. I finally have some sora kinda meeting between Dean and Jo; I promise they will actually talk next chapter!! My OC is finally in America and I hope you like her car. I't one of my dream cars, second to the Metallicar, of course. Thanks for reading and I can't wait for more reviews._

* * *

I parked myself by the beach, locking up my run down Beetle. I descended the boardwalk steps to find myself a large rock to perch myself on while I sifted through Max's belongings. I didn't have the strength to open it the day before, when Mr. Stewart tossed the moderately heavy package on my lap. So instead I headed for the property in Swansea, deciding to make a quick stop in Mumbles to see the beach I played at as a child. The memories were few and far between, but they kept me going when it seemed that my life would never improve. With shaky fingers, I opened the large envelope and blindly reached inside to pull out his last belongings. First I grabbed a couple of war medals, followed by one of my lost gloves, a few pictures of us together, and a few small tin soldiers. My eyes glassed over as, lastly, a letter fell out; it was sealed and addressed  
to me, _Alex Curtis_.

As I opened the creased envelope and removed the letter, I smiled, recognizing Max's writing immediately; he always complained about how messy it was. I started to read, surprised that it was written less than a month ago.

_My Dearest Ally,_

_I have to admit that we had a great run; I never had an adventure like this. You made me realize that I could be a part of someone's life; that I could be remembered. Now don't you start crying, love._

_I think I always knew that we could not beat them. But know that I would do it again in a second, I have lived an long and interesting life. You, however, are just beginning to flourish in this world. I could never survive losing you, too many innocent souls were already lost because of me. I love you, darling; you are my true family, and because of this, I have made plans for your safety and the continuation of this case we started. It is of the utmost urgency that you travel to America to meet with one of my contacts. I have been warned that recently that a demon is planning to open one of the gates of hell. The consequences will be devastating._

_I have already sent most of your weapons to said contact. Enclosed is a first class ticket to Kansas International Airport. I am truly sorry that I had to keep so much from you; I cared too much to give you more pain. Remember that there is more to you than hunting. Use your talents to your advantage. Be passionate, feel emotion, but don't let it rule you. My contact is listed below with the address beside it. My car will be waiting there for you; I know you will love it. I am so proud of you._

_Goodbye love,_

_Max_

I gazed out into the sun setting over the coast. I knew that Max wanted the best for me, and for just this once, I felt at peace. What unsettled me were the plans he had left. I was aware of the consequences of this particular hunt. Max and I argued about reopening the case, but I felt that too much of my painful past would resurface because of it; I had already worked so hard to move on. But I owed him that much, and I couldn't forget the numerous times he saved me. Determined, I pulled out the ticket and carefully repacked his belongings, stepping cautiously back onto the boardwalk to my car, ready to catch the first flight from Cardiff to Heathrow. _America, here I come. _I thought sarcastically.

I arrived in Kansas the next day; exhausted from the 9 hour transatlantic flight, I lugged my duffel bag along the winding arrivals hallway, which opened up into the main terminal foyer. I was holding another letter from Max, the crafty bugger; he left it in a rented locker at Heathrow. He said that my car would be waiting with one of the valets at the entrance. I can't believe that man thought of everything. As I headed towards the welcoming crowd of people, I searched for any sign of the valet. I was not in a good mood; over and above my fear of flying was the general happiness of the crowd around me, making me more conscious of my loss. I longed for his humour. Looking past I noticed a short, stocky man holding up a cardboard with my name hastily written in black ink. As I wandered toward him, I noticed his scruffy demeanour emphasized by his worn leather bomber jacket and stained jeans. Soon after, I noticed his smell. My presence startled him out of his reverie.

"You'd be Ms. Curtis then," he grunted, shifting his weight from side to side.

"Yes," I replied, too tired to elaborate, "Do I need to show you any ID or…"

"Naw, I just parked it outside," he replied, tossing me the keys. I caught them out of reflex, and looked up to see him saunter out the front entrance.

Shrugging, I inspected the set of keys. The tag seemed familiar, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I strolled through the front entrance and into the bright sunshine and warm breeze. Putting on my sunglasses, I took the keys and pressed the ignition button and heard a revving noise not far from me. I stood agape when I spotted the car, Max definitely had taste; there stood a silver Aston Martin DB9. Smirking, I jogged up to the door and tossed my bag into the back seat. Gripping the wheel and adjusting the beautiful leather seat, I cranked the radio and speed off to visit Max's contact.

* * *

The two cars rolled up quietly to the old barn. In the darkness, the lights emanated from the interior of the structure. Dean switched off the engine and turned to his brother, still massaging his head from the last vision. Bobby quietly inched the door opened to get a better view of the surroundings, motioning for Ellen to follow him out of the car. He snuck around the back of his pick-up and handed Ellen a crossbow and also removed two scythes for himself. The boys eased out of the car soon after, pulling out a couple of machetes and a small crossbow. Dean knelt down to check for the switchblade in his boot, and then silently joined the group huddled together. 

"Sure about this Sammy?" Dean whispered, stand beside Bobby.

"Positive - I saw Jo in this building with vamps. Another body was lying on a table. I just hope they aren't the same person." Sam glanced over to Ellen with a worried expression. He hoped they were not too late.

"Don't worry boys, my daughter's a fighter, we'll get her out alive," she stated, setting the bolt in her crossbow.

"Let's think logically about this," Bobby piped up, relaying his plans. "We can't rush into it, or Jo will be killed. From what Sam says, it's vampires, so knock 'em out, pin 'em down, or decapitate them." Donning his vest, he pocketed a few smaller knives and turned to the boys.

"One of you should scout the perimeter, see if you can take a look inside, and give us some numbers. I know we'll be outnumbered but we gotta size them up." Dean nodded and wandered into the darkness ahead. Bobby turned to Ellen, a frown fixed on his features, "Don't do anything stupid,; we can't risk you or Jo getting killed. Shoot the vamps from a distance. When you see and opening, use this knife to free Jo." Ellen tensed, but said nothing, nodding in agreement. Handing over the knife, Bobby closed the hatch carefully and leaned against the side door.

* * *

Slipping in and out of consciousness, Jo was beginning to lose hope of escaping. Kate returned every half hour to slice yet another piece of skin, letting Jo's blood pool around the floor. Rocking the chair back and forth, Kate made Jo constantly dizzy, unable to take note of her surroundings. The group snickered at Jo's pain-filled cries. By now, it seemed that every inch of her body was covered in blood and grime. Kate sauntered over, towering above Jo's restrained body. 

"I bet they'll be here soon, I can smell the older one nearby." She glided the buck knife over Jo's collarbone, "I wonder if you'll stay awake long enough to watch them die?" She smirked, lowering her face to Jo, showing of her glinting incisors.

"Ha," Jo croaked, her throat parched. "They'll kill you idiots before you can blink."

Kate laughed and walked away. Looking sideways, Jo noticed a form through one of the spaces between the timber slats. She squinted her eyes to better focus on the shape. Her eyes widened as she turned back from the shadow, her hopes raised.

Sam leaned uncomfortably against the Impala's hood. The tension between the small group intensified by the minute and he was itching to rescue Jo. Already guilty about the possession incident, he wanted to compensate for endangering her, an apology of sorts. She was one of the few friends they had left in the business. Sam turned to gaze at the aged structure, worried at what he might find within. He noticed his brother first as Dean stormed back towards them.

"Stupid son-of-a-bitch," Sam heard Dean mumble as he rejoined the group. Bobby raised his eyebrows, unsure of Dean's expression.

"So?" Bobby prompted.

"It's definitely vamps, and we know them." He turned to Sam; "It's Kate and her nest, back when we stole the colt." Sam surprised expression soon transformed into a scowl.

"I guess it's payback. Luckily, it has nothing to do with the Demon," Sam replied.

"What else?" Bobby asked.

"About 10 or 12 of them, most are unarmed. I'd say we have a pretty good chance of beating them. Jo's alive and strapped to a chair just behind the group. She's alive, but she's lost a lot of blood. Best bet is to park the cars down the lane, wait 'till dawn and ambush the nest. They'll be sleeping and caught off guard." Dean looked to the horizon, where the pink and orange streaks of dawn already pierced the darkness.

Bobby nodded in agreement as he stood up and got in his truck. Sam and Ellen agreed to stayed put while the cars were parked. As Bobby and Dean crept back up the lane, dawn was fast approaching. Kneeling down beside his brother, Dean checked his surroundings from behind the bush; "Anything suspicious?" Sam glanced sideways, sat back on his heels, and turned towards him.

"Nothing unusual. One of them checked the area at dawn. Other than that, silence." Sam paused, looking over towards the barn. "Don't think it's a trap do you?"

"I don't know, Sammy. I'm just worried that Kate might've already caught our scent. If so, we're screwed." Dean furrowed his brow and sat back on the ground, legs crossed in front of him.

Sam mimicked his position, waiting for the ok from Bobby. He tried to calm his nerves in the silence; so many things might go wrong; so many outcomes that could end in death.

"I'm worried about her." Dean whispered in a quiet voice interrupting his thoughts.

"Really?" said Sam, surprised. "I thought you only tolerated her."

"Huh, seems ya got me wrong then, Sammy." Dean smirked, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "She's a good hunter, and she's got guts. I respect her. I think Jo is one of the few friends we have left." He looked down, tearing away at bits of grass. "I feel guilty for putting her in this situation. It's my fault." He looked sharply at Sam. "Tell anyone about this chick flick moment, and I swear I'll kill you."

Sam chuckled, amused by Dean's confession. "No worries bro, I won't tell a soul," he paused, noticing the relief on Dean's face, "…if you don't piss me off, of course." Sam smiled as the relief quickly dissolved.

"Boys," Bobby whispered. "Time to go." He stood up, holding out a hand to Ellen as they dusted off their jeans and retrieved their weapons. Leading the group to a side door, Sam and Dean readied there weapons as Bobby carefully opened the door, which emitted creaks of protest from the rotting panels. He paused, allowing the silence to confirm his disguise, Bobby stepped into the main floor of the building, the rest following close behind.

Passing by some empty stalls, Dean noticed a few resting vamps curled up in the mouldy hay. He signalled to Bobby, who gave the kill order. The more vamps they kill without struggle, the better the odds. They finished off the two with no more than a whisper of surprise. Following Bobby to the center of the room they noticed a more slumped bodies, now finished by Sam and Ellen. _Six down_, thought Dean, but something nagged him. He looked around at the sleeping vamps left. Suddenly he grabbed Sam, spinning him around.

"Something's wrong," Dean hissed, looking around, frantically searching the area, his body tensing for a fight.

Turning to Dean, Bobby replied "What do ya mean?"

"Kate's missing." Dean finished just as a growl came from behind. Across from him, Kate charged for Ellen. Whipping around to face one of the missing vamps, he bellowed, "Ellen, GET DOWN." 


	5. Chapter 5

Caught off guard, Dean took a right hook to the face, launching him across the floor. The vampire lunged, landing on Dean's chest; his teeth bared as he grabbed hold of Dean's shirt, unaware of the machete in his victims hand. With one quick swipe, a headless corpse collapsed on Dean, covering his face with blood. Dean it away, charging after the vamp currently holding off his little brother. Calling out, Sam tossed the discarded machete to Dean, who scissored off it's head. The body buckled and Dean paused. Something zinged by his ear; he ducked, turning to the sound, to see a vampire pinned to a wall with a bolt to the head. Tossing back his brother's weapon, he finished off the disoriented vampire, looking back to nod at Ellen, who was reloading her crossbow. She gave a thin smile and aimed at the nearest target, fighting with Bobby.

Someone shouted his name; spinning around he came face to face with Kate, her face contorted with anger. Before he could react, she grabbed his throat, launching him into the air. Landing on the second floor loft, Dean gasped for air, a throbbing pain lancing across his torso. Rolling onto his back, he winced and looked up, trying to gain his bearings. Kate reappeared, hurtling towards his prone form; quick reflexes gave Dean the advantage, managing to get away. He dragged himself onto his knees and then staggered to his feet as the thud of Kate's boots slammed into the platform. She smirked, fangs bared as Dean faced her. He went to grab for his machete, but found nothing. Looking out, he saw the discarded weapon in the middle of the main floor.

"That was a stupid mistake." Kate jeered, aware of her advantage with the unarmed hunter.

"Stuck with you again, huh? Why do you keep stalking me Kate? It's not flattering." Dean smirked, trying to buy time. "You know I'm not into that whole necrophilia crap." He leaned back against the support beam.

Kate growled, slowly advancing towards him. "I wouldn't be a smart ass if I were you, it only get you into deep trouble." She paused, inches from him. "I could give you power and strength beyond your human limitations. Immortality would be yours; yours pick of fine women and fresh blood. Enticing offer, don't you think?" She whispered.

"Ha! You really think I 'd want that? No thanks, I'm not a commitment kinda guy." Dean replied forcefully.

"I suggest you accept the deal Dean. Just think of poor Sammy when the demon takes your soul. Are you gonna visit your Daddy down there?" She laughed at his surprise. "Do you think I'm that ignorant Dean? One year isn't a lot. Soon, you'll be begging me to take you in."

"Over my dead body." Dean hissed . Swiftly, both arms shot up to Kate's left wrist, twisting it around until he produced a soft cracking noise. She groaned in pain and dropped to her knees. Leaning over the loft, he yelled to Bobby, who tossed up a scythe. Pushing himself back up he rounded on Kate, who clutched her bloodied hand. Lining the blade to her neck, he waited for her to face him. She looked up, her eyes emanating nothing but cold hatred.

"I could've helped you." She repeated, making no effort to fight back.

"No thanks, I'll get by without you." Raising the blade, he sliced through her neck. Dean wiped the blade clean on the corpse's bloodied clothes. Finding a rickety staircase to slowly descend to the ground floor.

* * *

The fight over, Dean emerged from the shadow of the platform. He was pretty sure he had cracked a few ribs, but nothing that seemed permanent. Sam, Bobby, and Ellen were trying to pull out any useful information from the remaining vampire. Dean strode past, towards the limp form of Jo; her head lolled on her chest from the constant rock of the chair. Her shallow cuts were now mostly bloody scabs. A lot of her blood had drained away, giving her a pale, but smooth complexion. Reaching over, Dean hesitated, gently shaking her shoulder; he began to cut the bindings holding her upper body to the rotting chair. Jo moaned weakly as she felt the rope loosen around her stomach and wrists. Turning the rocking chair, he sliced off the last remnants of rope. She slumped forward, and he quickly gathered her into his arms. As he sat on the floor, Dean was startled by Jo's sudden movement, latching herself around his torso; he hissed as she held tighter, adding to the pain from his ribs. Rubbing his hands up and down her back, he whispered quietly, helping her calm down. Loosening her grip, her trembling soon receded into rasping sobs. He felt quite awkward, but just continued to hold Jo tightly in his grasp. Looking up, he saw that the interrogation had ended. He slowly rose with Jo in tow and walked towards the rest of the group. Ellen rushed forward, desperate for some sign that her daughter was hanging on.

"Hey baby," Ellen cooed, stroking Jo's head. "Baby we got ya, you're safe now."

"Mom?" Jo whispered, lifting her head slightly to see her mother's face over Dean's shoulder. Her mother smiled in return.

"We're gonna go now sweetheart, find a place to stay." She looked up at the boys. "Leave the roadhouse, we need to get moving, find a safe house to regroup." She deadpanned, exhaustion starting to show on her face.

As they began to leave, Jo began to struggle against Dean's hold. "No, wait, No. STOP." She shouted, flailing in his arms. Ellen rushed over, with Bobby and Sam over her shoulder. Dean's began to limp heavily as her struggles increased.

"Dammit, that hurts," he moaned as she elbowed his ribs. Sam strode up and took Jo from Dean, who stubbornly released her as the pain blossomed throughout his body.

"Calm down Jo, what's the matter?" Sam asked, bracing Jo against his torso to stop her jerking movements. Her rattling breath slowed as she looked over to the group.

"There's someone else here. He's…still..," coughs racked her fragile body. She pointed frantically to the far end of the barn where old tarps were piled over on another.

Sam and Bobby walked towards the tarps, Jo still with them. "Under the tarps," she spluttered. Dean staggered up and pulled off the numerous tarps. Jo struggled to see the scene unfold.

The room stilled when the last tarp was removed. Ellen let out a cry and ripped the binding holding down Ash's legs and arms. Shaking him violently, Ellen kept on shouting at him to wake up. Within minutes, the gang emerged with Jo and Ash, who was hanging in-between Bobby and Dean. They left quietly, leaving no trace.

* * *

Less than an hour's drive brought me to Max's contact. I parked the Aston Martin across the street and slowly crossed to the quaint house nestled in the heart of suburbia. As I neared the driveway, I was impressed by the beautiful garden. I walked up the steps, soaking in the warm weather and quiet sounds of the neighbourhood. It was the closest to normal that I had seen in a while. Turning towards the door, I saw a small sign, advertising palmistry and fortune telling. Rolling my eyes, I tried the door, and let myself in. A tingling from above signalled my entry; in response, I heard a shuffling of chairs and murmuring voices towards the back of the house. I noticed the extra seating in the foyer and parked myself on the nearest chair. Slouching in the seat, I waited impatiently; 20 minutes went by before a middle aged man was shuffled through the archway from the living room. Behind him stood a well-rounded African American woman with a welcoming smile and hearty personality. She glanced my way, before turning her attentions back to the man in the doorway.

"Now honey. You've got nuthin to worry 'bout. Money's coming you way." She quickly ushered him past the screen, closing the front door before he could reply.

She turned to me smirking. "He'll get money, all right; but his wife's gonna take it all after the divorce." She chuckled slightly strolling to the archway. She paused, turning back. "Well come on Alex, we haven't got all day. You must be hungry, sugar." She sauntered through the living room. I jumped up, following the woman in astonishment.

The living room opened up into a home-style kitchen with a polished wood dining set in the middle. I rotated one of the chairs and sat my self down, arms leaning on the back.

"So, your wondering how I know your name," the woman stated, pulling out some dishware and a frying pan.

"It's like you can read my mind," I quipped sarcastically, leaning my chin on my hands. I paused, "You are reading my mind." I sighed, uncomfortable with my new understanding.

"Well, well honey. You catch on quick. I'm Missouri Mosley; your Max and I go way back, when he was traveling around the US. I don't read your mind on purpose, I only see emotions and thoughts on the surface. I don't invade nobody's privacy." She smiled kindly, putting out some eggs and bacon on my plate, while toasting some fresh bread.

"I don't mind," I said between mouthfuls. The aromas permeating the kitchen made my mouth water. The food was delicious, but I was aware of the bribe she made for my trust. I looked up at her knowing face; she understood my wariness and knew I would catch on fast. Reaching out, I firmly shook her hand, "I'm Alex Curtis, but you can call me Ally. I just hope your not using any voodoo mind tricks on me to trust you." I chuckled, and began to relax a little.

"I'm glad your so easily bribed, sugar. I got some company coming my way soon who need your help. They'll have the connections you need to find that demon." She said warily. Clearing away my empty plate, she replaced it with a steaming cup of chamomile tea.

"So I guess you know all about my past, huh?" Sipping my tea quietly, I gauged her reaction. She gave a sad smile and put down her cup.

"Yes, I do. The more painful the memory, the louder it is. I'm sorry to know you went through that, honey. But it's not your fault."

"Yes it is." I stiffly replied. "Don't talk about that part of my life again. No offence, it's just, what's in the past, stay's there." Finishing my tea, I stood up, taking the remaining dishes to the sink.

"Don't you even think about calling a hotel. Go get your stuff and park your car in my driveway or I will beat your hide with a wooden spoon." Missouri hollered at me, brandishing the wooden spoon from the cutlery drawer. I laughed, shaking my head as I strolled out to gather my belongings.

As I walked through the front door. I heard Missouri shout, "And we're going shopping tomorrow. You barely got descent clothes on your back child."

I could just imagine her brandishing that spoon out of sight, and I groaned, "I like my clothes," as I let the screen slam in place.


End file.
